


the Tower of Joy

by Frostbearer



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Incest, M/M, Twincest, tentative happy end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 21:01:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20442467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frostbearer/pseuds/Frostbearer
Summary: “You are very good with children. Do you have any of your own?” Such innocent words, yet the amount of pain they brought to the surface were unexpected.





	the Tower of Joy

**Author's Note:**

> Kyrie needs more love. I decided to give it.
> 
> I didn't mean to write this but once I started my fingers just flew over the keyboard.  
Unbeta-ed as always.

Kyrie is a sweet girl. Cannon fodder, but that goes without saying since all humans are that in the presence of anything demonic. Dante gets why his nephew is drawn to her. There's an innocence in her at the same time that he can see a strength not unlike what he imagines that his own mother must have had. He can't deny that he's a bit fascinated with how she manages the orphanage and still has the patience of a saint to deal with kids running around all day. The hunter muses on that he sure as hell couldn't deal with that one day when Vergil and himself stops by in Fortuna for what Nero since their return to the surface world calls “family time.” Observing Vergil around humans has been quite the experience in itself and admittedly Dante was a bit hesitant in letting his twin be around kids, but when an hour of loud and boisterous children has yet to provoke the Darkslayer into a murderous rampage Dante infinitesimally relaxes and allows himself to spend more time with getting to know the woman who has Nero wrapped around her delicate little finger.

“You're very good with children,” she observes, watching him bounce Mikaela, a tiny red-headed three-year old girl on one knee while playing tic tac toe with Bianca, managing to entertain them both with ease. “Do you have any of your own?”

There is a moment when Dante's face twists into a bitter version of a grimace and his mind flashes back to a couple weeks after the Temen Ni Gru. He'd known what had happened before Lady did since there had been something in her scent which just _changed._ Something which that demonic inheritance of his recognises as the result of their... _rendezvous_ the night the tower fell when they needed to replace pain with pleasure and drown tears in the taste of salt against one another's skin.

So when she'd marched up to him and told the news he hadn't been surprised, nor had he been by the announcement that she wouldn't keep it. Couldn't, more like it, what with their line of work. He'd asked what she needed and since that moment he had been paying a debt he could never hope to repay. They never spoke of it again, and where Lady found solace in guns and building a reputation as a ruthless mercenary Dante quietly developed a taste for whiskey.

Oh there are plenty of things he could tell her; that any children he'd have would have a proverbial bullseye painted on them, that he can barely take care of himself – how on earth would he take care of a kid on top of that? He says none of those things. Instead he laughs to cover up the grimace, his shoulders rise and fall in a Gallic shrug conveying everything and nothing at the very same time. ”Nah. I don't have any kids.” That he glances off to the side towards his brother isn't missed by the brunette who makes a small “ah” of understanding. That it's a bullshit excuse isn't something he's going to let her know. What he fails to notice is that mercurial eyes narrow, supernatural hearing picking up the conversation easily.

Nonetheless it's not a secret that his brother and himself have a relationship stretching beyond that of siblings. Far from it. Their unconventional and, by some, unholy alliance isn't something they flaunt yet it's not a secret. If one is to look for the signs they are there.

“All this time?” She asks instead. The lack of judgement in her despite her religious upbringing – or perhaps that is precisely why she _doesn't_. They are after all the sons of the patron of her city and to cast judgement on them would be to fault Sparda – or that's what the hunter reckons. It's nonetheless relieving to not see disgust or mistrust in her gaze. He has to remind himself that she doesn't know all which has happened. Not unless Lady has spoken about it which he doubts.

It's another question which catches him off guard, and he debates on how to best answer it, watching some of the kids play with blocks to buy himself some time. One of the older kids having managed to get a fairly high tower, the foundation steady. The slightly younger kid next to him mimicking it but having it fall over again and again since he's only building up without really thinking about how to structure it. Huh. Funny that.

“There have been others.” _But had he been there from the start there wouldn't have been_. Unspoken but hanging in the air. Does he regret that? Yes and no. He wouldn't be who he is today without those events. They probably would have killed one another by now had they been together all this time. Probably.

She gives a low hum, piercing him with knowing eyes. “In your heart or in your bed?” His gaze flickers down to the kids, surprised by that she will broach this topic with them present. Especially in such a public space. A wry smile is his only answer. “What's with the twenty questions?”

The brunette beckons Bianca closer to her in lieu of answering him, bending her head to speak softly to her before the five year old takes Mikaela inside. While Dante most definitely can hear the conversation he opts to observe their surroundings, not really focusing on anything for a few seconds.

When the two girls have left he can almost physically feel Kyrie's attention shift to him. Huh. What has the world come to? Intelligent eyes observe him when he turns his head to look at her. The lack of a smile on her face should be tipping him off yet he's unusually slow to react.

“You smile and jest yet there is a sadness in your eyes which doesn't match what Nero tells me you're like when you are out hunting. I've seen that look before. Who did you lose?”

There's a current going through Dante as he understands the implications, recognising that while she might not know exactly the extent of his sorrow or for whom he has mourned it is there for her to see. It tells him he needs to remember to put his guard up and that he underestimated her. Someone who's able to see through his façade, huh? He can name the amount of people who can do that on one hand with fingers to spare. Then he considers for a second, recalling that she's also lost family, friends.

Broad shoulders heave and then slump in a sigh, scratching at a scruffy jaw. Shit. No use pretending with her is there? “I have been hunted and been hunting demons since I was eight years old. There was a time when knowing my name was enough to get you killed.” His tone nonetheless remains light, as if he's not discussing that dozens of people have died for associating with him.

He's very careful in that he doesn't lie. But it's not the whole truth. She doesn't need that. No names leave his lips even as one specific keeps on circulating in his head. Nonetheless he sees that he's said too much by the way her hand flies to her mouth. For a second or two his brows knit as he tries to figure out what she's puzzled out before his brain circles back to the previous topic. _Oh_. She thinks he's lost a lover and a child? Well, technically speaking she's not wrong since a lot of Dante's... _emotions_ are connected to Vergil's dive into hell and the subsequent events but nah. Nothing so dramatic.

He could correct her but for this time he prefers not doing so, especially with how she apologises for inquiring about it, almost fleeing inside. The hunter watches her head off with a bemused little look on his face, shaking his head to himself.

A voice from his direct left cuts through his musings. “Were you planning on sharing this information with me?”

“Nope.” The answer is swift despite that the voice startles him, in all honesty surprised by that Vergil managed to sneak up on him. That hadn't happened since... ever. He must really be off his game. “Didn't take you for the eavesdropping type, Verge.”

“I partake in information when necessary.” The laconic tone one Dante normally wouldn't take offence with yet this once it almost makes him wince. He's pissed.

For the second time this day Dante finds himself scrutinised, icy eyes staring him down to gauge what is going on. Had it been anyone else Dante would have laughed it away, tried to jeer his brother into a fight. But not now, not today. “The past is the past. Rehashing it won't change anything. It's time to move forward.”

A brow cocks as his sibling seems to draw some internal conclusion, Dante can almost see the wheels turning as that mind works through a myriad of things. “Am I part of your past then?” The faint smell of blood in the air has Dante's nose twitching, eyes flickering downwards to see that Vergil has resorted to an old habit of his, that while his fingers grip the scabbard of Yamato tightly he has flicked the blade up with the nail of his thumb, exposing a few inches of enchanted steel, pad of the thumb grazing sharpness to bring forth the truest of reds.

The younger man knows the gesture for what it is. Worry. Comfort. Nervousness. The only true sign he will give when his emotions are too close to the surface, a physical outlet to quell the storm inside, and for a few moments the twins only stare at one another.

Dante swallows, Adam's apple bobbing. “Only if you want to be. I've always seen you as a constant.”

It's hard to tell even for Dante who _should_ be able to read his twin's body language since they are physically identical, yet he hasn't been present in his brother's life for many years and boy that's another bag of cats he doesn't want to touch with a ten-foot pole. Yet there is something in how the tight line Vergil's mouth has been drawn into eases fractionally which tells him that they are okay. For now.

**Author's Note:**

> Welp. This.... spun in another direction than expected. These two need to talk and hug it all out.
> 
> Title is, (cookies if you caught it) a reference in part to the Tower of Joy in Game of Thrones/ASoIaF and everything which that includes an even more direct jab at the Temen Ni Gru and the events I hinted at in the story. 
> 
> You're welcome.  
Now excuse me while I find that bottle of Jack and drink it all down to forget about this. I need to stop trying to write my way out of depression.


End file.
